


Manipulations

by redheadgrrl1960



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Deception, F/F, Honesty, Manipulation, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 00:15:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9265349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redheadgrrl1960/pseuds/redheadgrrl1960
Summary: Page Six publishes pictures of MIranda Priestly and her assistant, Andrea Sachs, in provocative situations. Someone is clearly out to hurt Miranda who comes up with a daring plan to reveal the person behind the manipulated photos. Andrea goes along with the intimate idea of her employer, knowing full well she's risking her heart in the process.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Noted that I only posted this story to fanfiction.net and not here - so rectifying that now!  
> Originally posted as and Eaxter Egg Hunt on my website 2013.

**Part 1**

She operated the mouse and the computer tablet pen with ease, moving the background of the image there, cropping something else here, and adding another layer to her Photoshop creation. Smiling, she shook her head at her thundering heart. It was only a photo manipulation, for goodness sake. Not real. She had taken different photos of them and merged them, using them as base for her…well, she wouldn’t go as far as to call it artwork, though it really took an effort and required skill to do it well. No, it was like wishful thinking. Something for her to gaze at, for her foolish heart to dream of.

In one picture, she had the two of them merely standing side by side, so close together it looked like they were holding hands. Chestnut hair blended with silver white, and their dresses matched, of course. In another picture, she’d managed to use several different shots of them both to have them embrace. So much better than air kisses, which was the normal thing during these events. A real hug.

She put the pictures in a secure folder and turned off the light. She had to go to bed. Runway was crazy these days, it seemed. So many people running around like headless chickens and, of course, the boss seemed to have a screw loose as well. Heading toward the bedroom, she hoped she’d dream of something nice. A friendly conversation, perhaps, or a hug that just might feel genuine for a little while.

Hope. She lived on it.

 

*******

 

Andy yawned as she picked up the New York Post from her doormat and padded back to her kitchen area. For once, she’d had time to put out her outfit of the day last night, and her hair was cooperating, which meant she’d only had to shower this morning.

Placing the newspaper on the small table, she checked her cell phone clock. 5:45. Plenty of time to down her tea and browse the news. Some days she had no time or energy even to watch TV, let alone follow the news. The feeling of living in a Runway and Miranda bubble was commonplace and it was pure luxury to turn the pages in peace and quiet, with no one tapping their foot in the background.

She turned page five over and…just stared. Her jaw lost all cohesion and her breath stopped. Not until she became dizzy did Andy start breathing again, now gasping as she looked at the two photos. The two _impossible_ photos. She leaned closer and watched the first one, following the outline of Miranda and her. They were at some function, hard to say which one, and Miranda had her left arm wrapped around Andy as she smiled warmly at her assistant.

“Am I losing it?” Andy squeaked. “Am I finally going mad after all this time at Runway?”

The second picture was smaller, but even more outrageously bizarre. Here, Andy, her broad smile in place, was running her fingertips along Miranda’s cheek, and Miranda in turn was cupping her cheek.

“That never happened!” Her voice a husky whisper now, Andy knew she was in big trouble. Clearly these photos were doctored, but who ever had done it was clearly masterful, as they looked entirely real. Everyone else seeing the photos would assume Miranda had a relationship with her assistant. Granted, her divorce was finalized by now, but this could still cause the fashionista a lot of damage. Was that the motive? Could Irv be gunning again for Miranda after his failed attempt at firing her during Paris Fashion Week?

Andy dressed quickly, donned her makeup even faster, and ran out the door after pushing the New York Post into her bag. She hated it, and to be honest, she was scared shitless, but she had to do this. Pulling out her iPhone, she dialed Roy, Miranda’s driver.

“Roy? Hey, it’s Andy. I need a ride to Miranda’s when you go to pick her up.”

“Sure thing, Andy. You’re in time for that without delaying her, I suppose.”

“Gosh. Did you happen to read any morning paper today, by any chance?”

“Uhm. Yeah. The Post.”

“Crap. So, you saw?”

“If you by that mean I saw Page Six, yes. I did. Rather nice-looking, the pictures.” Roy’s friendly voice was friendly. “If you start moving toward the end of your block, I’ll be there in two minutes to pick you up.” Roy hung up before Andy could thank him.

She wasn’t looking forward to confronting Miranda in the car, but it was better than having her sailing through Runway unprepared with everyone snickering. Heads were going to roll and one might be Andy’s as Miranda had fired people for much less, but it wasn’t fair to Miranda to play possum.

Roy arrived and Andy slid into the backseat. Breathing in the scent of leather and something else, the lingering scent of Miranda’s perfume that she’d come to associate with this particular vehicle, Andy leaned her head against the backrest and sighed. If she was fired, she’d Runway, for sure. The worst thing would be not seeing Miranda every day. Not smell her enigmatic, signature scent. Not admire her perfect outfits and envy how her clothes hugged her lithe frame. And there would be no guilty glances at specific angles of Miranda’s décolleté. The latter was a source of constant guilt, but not enough to make Andy stop.

It didn’t take Roy long to pull up at Miranda’s townhouse. As Andy waited with dread filling every cell in her body, she busied herself by going over Miranda’s schedule for the day. She didn’t doubt she would have to clear out her desk instantly, even if she had nothing to do with the fake photos, but she could still help Emily by marking the meetings that needed to be rescheduled immediately. God, if she was fired, and she hoped she wouldn’t be, she was even going to miss that pesky Brit. Emily was soon to go onto bigger and better things, but perhaps that would be put on hold now if Andy was removed from the office. Emily would have to train yet another second assistant, which would drive the haughty Englishwoman right up the wall. Still there was such a thing as miracles. Miranda might realize this was not her fault. Yup. And snowballs were thriving in hell continuously.

“Here she is, Andy.” Roy jumped out of the car and opened the door for Miranda who sat down with her eyes on the cell phone screen, not noticing Andy at first.

“Good morning, Miranda,” Andy said quietly, and on any other day it would have been mighty entertaining to watch Miranda nearly jump out of her skin.

“Andrea!” Miranda had dropped her phone and was now reaching for it and glaring at Andy at the same time. “Why are you here? Set on giving your employer a coronary first thing?”

“I had to talk to you. Something’s come up.”

“Oh?” Miranda picked up her phone, but let it sit on her lap. “Then I suggest you get to the point as I bore easily.”

“I take it you haven’t read the Post today?”

“You know very well that I read all the morning papers at my desk when I have received my coffee.” Miranda frowned. “Stop the twenty questions routine and _get to the point.”_

“Page Six.” Andy pulled out her own copy of the paper and handed it to Miranda.

Miranda didn’t say anything, but switched on the reading light and opened the newspaper. Finding Page Six, she glanced over it and Andy could tell the instant her gaze found the photos. Honestly, Andy had never seen anyone go so white and not faint right after. Then Miranda’s color changed to dark red and Andy hugged herself discreetly, waiting for the blow. She wanted to say something in her defense, but there was nothing to say, as she had nothing to do with this.

“Oh. God.” Miranda’s voice was a mere whisper. The newspaper was shaking now, fluttering like an autumn leaf before it falls to the ground.

“I don’t know who made those, Miranda. I have nothing to do with it. Obviously, you’re the target, but I’m a victim of this horrible prank as well.”

“Prank?” Miranda sounded drunk. “Yes. Yes. A prank.”

“Miranda?” Worried now, Andy unbuckled her belt and scooted closer to her boss. “We’ll make sure they publish a strong denial—”

“No.”

No? “But—”

“I said, ‘No.’” Miranda folded the New York Post tightly and held it with white-knuckled hands. She gave Andy a withering glare that made her scoot right back and buckle back up again.

Andy was mostly baffled that she wasn’t fired. Yet. They rode into Elias-Clark in silence, but Andy didn’t think she’d ever experienced such a quietness, one so saturated with unspoken words that sweat broke on her forehead.

When Roy turned into the street leading up to the offices of Runway, Andy knew she had to open her mouth again, no matter what. “A lot of people read the Post. Most people.”

“So, I understand.”

“And even if they don’t, they go to the online digital version. Which also holds Page Six.”

“Sounds probable.”

Finally snapping, Andy flung her hands in the air. “So, they’ll have seen these…these pictures and some of them might _assume._ ”

“Assume what, Andrea?” Miranda asked with a cotton-soft voice.

“A-assume that we do—that, for real.” Her cheeks so warm now, she was probably close to purple, Andy refused to let Miranda stare her down.

“Do what, for real? Do be specific.” Miranda tilted her head, her eyes like cold blue ice.

“One picture had us hugging and the other had us clinging to each other. It’s pretty obvious that someone’s out to embarrass you. Suggest that we’re fooling around. Or something.” Andy knew that last part sounded juvenile, but there were limits. No way she was going to use the words “having an affair” or worse, “fucking around,” when her boss was concerned.

“Yes, that would be my conclusion also.” Miranda didn’t wait for Roy when the car rolled to a stop. She flung the door open and stepped outside. “Come along, Andrea. Don’t drag your feet again.”

“Again?” Andy muttered and hurried after Miranda who strode at her usual efficient pace.  “I wish I’d known it was even an option.”

It should have been a shock that Miranda motioned for her to ride in the elevator together, but it actually made sense in a strange way. Andy had only done that once before, at James Holt’s studio, and that time she had let her nerves get the better of her and tried to chat with Miranda. Now she stood ramrod straight at Miranda’s side and didn’t say a word.

“What about you?” Miranda asked as they passed the third floor.

“What? How do you mean?” Andy forgot about giving Miranda her space and privacy in the elevator.

“You said the motive for publishing these pictures was to embarrass _me_. What about you?”

“Oh, _me_. Nah, I’m nobody. They won’t bother with me. You’re the one that has a reputation to uphold. You’re the one with children who might suffer for this.”

The last sentence made Miranda go pale again. “The girls.” She pressed her lips together.

“As you see, this is really only bad for you. Everyone else will envy me.” Andy tried for a lame joke, but Miranda snapped her head around, her eyes widening.

“What? What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, people adore you. Men and women alike. They’d walk over my size four ass to get to you, if they could.” Smiling tremulously, Andy hoped Miranda would know she was half joking.

“They would?” Miranda shook her head. “Silly girl.”

The elevator stopped at their floor and as soon as they stepped onto the marble floor, Andy knew the rumor mill was alive and well. Those who had seen the pictures had informed the others and now everyone was waiting with equal parts bated breath and dread to see what Miranda would say and do.

Miranda didn’t say anything, but barreled down the corridor toward her office while spouting orders to Andy as usual. Nobody should be surprised, Andy thought. Miranda never explained anything to anyone.

Nigel and Emily were waiting in the outer office. Only there did Miranda halt and stop just inside the door. “For heaven’s sake. I assume the two of you have read the Post.”

“Yes, we have.” Nigel looked baffled. “Are we to offer our congratulations or our condolences?”

“Nigel!” Andy hissed. “Not funny.”

“Actually, it was a little bit funny. Trust you to see the humorous side, Nigel.” Miranda tossed her coat and bag toward Emily and then entered her office. “Andrea, call the IT department and have them send what goes for their top employee there.”

“Right away.” Andy went to her desk and perhaps something in her face said “back off” very loudly, as neither Nigel nor Emily dared whisper a word about the pictures.

*****xxx***xxx*****

The computer tech looked nervous. “You’ve had several incursions over the last twenty-four hours, ma’am.”

“I see. Can you tell me which files have been accessed?” Miranda stood by the window, tugging at her long necklace.

“As far as I can tell, it’s some picture folders, mainly. Your email is secure, as are your digital versions of the Book.”

“Good.”

“But your personal picture files have been accessed and some images downloaded. Do you wish for me to check what they entailed?”

“No. That’s all.”

“But don’t you want me to—”

“No.” Miranda sat down at her desk again after the computer tech left, not sure what her options were now. One was to throw herself out the window, but that would only please Irv and she had no doubt that he somehow was behind this little stunt. Why else would this incursion be so specific and non-Runway related? Irv was trying to dig out dirt, and, oh God, she had given him plenty to gloat over. She sat up straight. Unless… Tapping her lower lip, as was her habit when new plans and ideas were hatching, she squinted as her mind calculated the pros and cons. It was risky. The whole idea was as risky as it was preposterous, but it might just work.

 

**Part 2**

 

“Andrea.” The barely audible voice of Andy’s boss signaled her presence was required. Miranda had not canceled any meetings and somehow managed to go through the business of the day without a hitch.

“Yes, Miranda?” Andy was ready with her pad and pen, but Miranda shook her head.

“You won’t need those. Close the door.”

Holy smokes, was that very smart? After today’s Post, wouldn’t it be clever not to add to the rumors? Still, not doing as Miranda said was a surefire way to light the fuse of the only powder keg that counted. She closed the door. Miranda stood and motioned for Andy to join her on the couch. Trembling now, she tried to decipher Miranda’s expression, which was about as easy to read as hieroglyphics.

“I think it’s time to deal with the…situation.” Miranda seemed calm, if Andy disregarded the way her fingers fluttered along the hemline of her Calvin Klein skirt.

“Should I call the editor of—?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Andy frowned.

“I’m going to ask you to take a leap of faith with me, Andrea.”

A leap of what? Andy knew she’d probably jump off a cliff or a bridge or just about anything for Miranda, but what did “leap of faith” mean in this context? “I’ll do my best,” she said, hoping that was what Miranda wanted to hear.

“Good. Good. I mean, I cannot force you to, um, participate in what could be considered my countermeasures, but I hope you might see things my way.”

The feeling of being in a surreal twilight zone was making Andy’s head spin. What was Miranda talking about? “You’ve lost me now. I’m sorry, Miranda, but I don’t understand.” Andy swallowed, expecting to receive the lethal glare Miranda used to eviscerate annoying, or worse, boring people.

This didn’t happen. Instead, Miranda took Andy’s right hand between hers. “Irv’s behind this. I’m sure of it. A mere demand for official denial from the Post won’t suffice.”

The words trickled into Andy’s mind very slowly. Miranda was holding her hand. _Holding_ her hand and apparently intended on doing so for a little while. Afraid this would make her palm sweat, Andy tried to focus on what Miranda was saying. “Irv? How can that be? He paid someone to manipulate photos of us?” She frowned. “Why would he—?”

“You were there. In Paris. He wasn’t happy to have his plan thwarted.” Miranda shrugged. “He’s been scheming ever since. In the boardroom and clearly out of it as well.”

“That pathetic little man.” Andy saw how her growling words made Miranda jump. “Well, I hate his guts for what he tried to do. What he made you do to Nigel.” _Oh, shit._ Andy closed her eyes, knowing full well she’d gone and done it now. _My big, big, fucking mouth._

“I know I disappointed you, Andrea,” Miranda murmured. “I saw no other way at the time and I won’t apologize for it. If it makes you despise me less, I can share that Nigel is up for a promotion, which is a bigger step for him than working with James Holt.”

Explanations from Miranda? Oh, yeah. They’d taken up residence in the twilight zone all right. “Oh. That’s…that’s good.” Andy wanted to avert her eyes from Miranda’s, but knew if she did, she might not be able to anticipate when the cobra that was her boss would strike. It wouldn’t stop Miranda from launching, but it was still good to know when the blow was coming in case she had time enough to duck.

“So. Here’s my suggestion.” Miranda took Andy’s other hand and then dropped both of them as if she only now realized she was touching her assistant. “We don’t demand a denial from the Post. We let them think they’re onto something.”

Something had to be wrong with the ventilating system. All the oxygen in the room was depleted in seconds. Andy gasped, and she was certain her eyeballs would pop out of their sockets any moment now.

“Breathe, Andrea. I can’t have you fainting on me in here. That would be taking things too far.” Miranda smirked, but something else, something haunted in her eyes, made it possible for Andy to do as she said. She greedily inhaled several times.

“You—you want Irv to realize we’re onto him, or something?”

“In a way.” Miranda looked uncomfortable. “I think if we act as if nothing is amiss, go to a few venues together and let the press take real pictures of us in similar situations, it will take the wind out of their sails, so to speak.”

“Take real pictures? As in of us h-hugging?” Andy swallowed against the dryness of her throat. “But that would mean—” People would think she slept with her boss. And when she was promoted to first assistant, they’d “know” just how she got the job. “Are you sure, Miranda?” Was there not any other way?

“We would have to seem intimate to some degree—and make it believable.” Miranda plucked at her hemline again and now Andy was sure she saw fear in her eyes. And something resembling defeat, but that was crazy. Miranda was undefeatable, invincible. She was the Queen of Fashion, the Devil in Prada, not to mention the most gorgeous creature that ever prowled the planet. At least that was how Andy saw her. If helping her meant hugging Miranda in public, Andy would gladly do it and revel in it for as long as it lasted. Then, she would no doubt spend the rest of her life piecing together her pulverized heart. As long as she could help remove that haunted expression from Miranda’s features, she would do it.

“I’m in,” she gushed. “Whatever it takes, I’m in.”

Miranda closed her eyes briefly. “Thank you.”

The rift back to reality from the twilight zone began to close above Andy’s head with those last two words from Miranda. Miranda had never ever thanked her. Not aloud. There was the time when Miranda had mouthed “thank you” after Andy interjected herself between Irv and Miranda’s drunken then-husband. Ah. Perhaps a trend was forming. “You’re welcome. When do we start?” Trying to sound businesslike might be the right way to stay sane.

“I have information that the culprit has more pictures up his sleeve to share on Page Six.” Miranda pressed her lips into a fine line. “Which means we have to do something tonight.” She tilted her head. “How about we have a drink together at the bar at Pastis?”

“All right.”

“Then I’ll give you a ride home in the town car. That’s a good start.” Miranda tapped her lips. “Yes, that will do.”

“It’s just…Miranda? What will happen once we’ve gotten back at whoever is doing this?” This scared Andy most of all. Going from fake hugs to no hugs at all, back to polite employer-employee status, if she even had a job then as she would have tarnished her reputation by having an official affair with her boss—either way it would devastate her, Andy was certain of it.

“We’ll cross that bridge then.” Miranda waved her hand dismissively.

“And you’re sure you can manage hugging me in public and not flinch or bat an eye?” Andy wanted Miranda to be sure, or this could backfire very badly.

“Why wouldn’t I—Oh, I see what you mean.” Frowning now, Miranda seemed to size her up. “As we’re aiming for supplying the paparazzi with a hug and a clingy sort of embrace, we might need to practice.”

 _What?!_ “Practice?”

“Pay attention, Andrea. I can’t keep repeating myself. Stand up.” Miranda stood and jerked her chin to hurry Andrea up. “Put your arms around me.”

Andy wanted to ask why she had to start, but knew it was pointless. Standing close to Miranda, she took a deep breath and placed her arms around her shoulders. Miranda was trembling and rigid as a flagpole. “That’s not going to fool anyone.” Andy wasn’t thinking when she started stroking Miranda’s back. “You have to relax and lean into me. Otherwise people will think I’m just a drunk assistant with a death wish.”

Miranda snorted softly and began to lean into the embrace. “You have a point.”

Andy had never felt anything as wonderful as Miranda’s slowly winding her arms around her waist, returning the hug. “Lean your head on my shoulder. Yes. Like that.” Andy could have wept at how wonderful it felt when Miranda’s soft, white hair brushed her jawline. They stood like that, Andy still caressing small, soothing circles on Miranda’s back, for what seemed too short a time, but was probably a full minute. When they withdrew, Andy regarded Miranda’s pink cheeks and darkened blue eyes with wonder. If she didn’t know any better, she would think Miranda had actually enjoyed the hug as much as Andy had. Impossible, of course, as this was just a way to mitigate Irv’s stealth attack on Miranda. She had better keep that in mind and safeguard her heart. Andy quickly took two steps back and smiled broadly.

“Okay. You let me know when it’s time for drinks at Pastis. I’ll be—I’ll be at my desk.” She strode to the door and opened it, donned her best having-been-told-off-by-the-boss-look, and sat down. Emily looked quite concerned, but Andy wanted to savor the memory of being in Miranda’s arms, never mind the reason, and pretended to read from her screen.

 

**Part 3**

 

Miranda looked down at the flash drive and then closed her hands so hard around it, the edges of it cut into her palm. It held all twelve of the manipulated photos she had erased from her computer, as well as all the clips and files connected to her…hobby. Feeling nauseous from the violation of her privacy, she sipped the ice-cold Pellegrino. She had never been foolish enough to actually store private things on Runway’s computer system, but she did have access to her home network from work, for convenience. Whoever Irv, the _maggot_ , had hired, had been a skilled hacker who could find out these things. Miranda decided on the spot to have an independent contractor install impenetrable firewalls between home and work, and at the same time, trace the invader.

Glancing at her watch, Miranda realized she couldn’t put it off any longer. “Time to get this show on the road,” she murmured and put her thumbnail into her purse. “Andrea. Coat. Bag.” She didn’t even slow down, but kept walking, certain that Andrea would catch up with her before she reached the elevators.

“Right here.” Andrea’s gentle voice wrapped around her as she stepped into the elevator. This time she didn’t have to tell Andrea to ride with her down. The girl learned very fast. As much as her lovely assistant seemed willing and caring enough to go along with this rather insane plan of hers, it would be prudent to keep in mind that Andrea only agreed to do this out of kindness. She had never showed any of the usual signs of being star struck or indulging in hero worship like so many assistants before her. Miranda’s thoughts came to a full stop. What if this reckless plan of hers destroyed Andrea’s prospects…her future? Perhaps the young woman was so eager to assist her demented boss that she couldn’t fathom what the rumor mill could to do you when you had no money, no connections, and nothing to fall back on. When Andrea received her promotion, people were going to assume she got that from sleeping with the her.

“Damn.” Miranda had no idea that she’d spoken aloud until she saw Andrea flinch.

“Something wrong, Miranda?” Andrea whispered. “I mean, _more_ wrong?”

“Let’s wait until we’re at Pastis. I’ve changed my mind. We will talk this over one more time.”

“Oh. Okay. Sure.” Andrea, clever girl, fished out her cell phone and confirmed the reservation for Miranda Priestly and guest ‘at the table she likes,” at Pastis. Miranda had to smile at how incredibly bossy Andrea sounded when she carried out her job. She wondered if Andrea was aware of how stern she could sound. This particular tone of voice caused shivers to ripple up and down her spine and her belly to tremble. Then again, any of Andrea’s tones had some sort of effect on her. Even that horrendous cackling laughter she’d been privy to hear many times in the office. She’d seen Emily roll her eyes at her colleague, but even the snobbish Englishwoman had to smile when Andrea got going.

“Your…our table is waiting.” Andrea tucked her phone into her enormous tote bag. “Roy’s waiting.”

“Good.”

The ride was short, which was a blessing as Miranda might have asphyxiated otherwise. Andrea’s light perfume was intoxicating and she tried to inhale as little of it as possible, which of course only caused her to gasp for air after a while. Andrea was far too polite to ask what the hell Miranda was up to, but she had to wonder.

The maître d’ at Pastis ushered them past the line and through the door, made sure their coats were tended to and then gave them the least conspicuous booth in the restaurant. Even if they could still be seen, nobody sat close enough to overhear if they were careful.

“Do you like meat, Andrea?”

Andrea jumped and lowered her menu. “Uhm. Yes. I do prefer chicken though.”

“Then I can recommend their grilled chicken.”

“Thank you. Good suggestion.”

Miranda hadn’t even opened her menu, always having the same dish that the master chef created for her several years ago. _Predictable?_ Only when it came to food, really. Miranda knew what she liked. Why change that?

Their waiter appeared discreetly, refrained from listing specials, and did not offer any cocktails, which was what Miranda expected of the Pastis staff. Last time someone had started spouting and endless list of dishes in minute detail, she had actually left. That was the first time she took Stephen to one of her favorite restaurants. Perhaps the staff had thought they must put on a show for the new ‘Mr. Priestly’ at the time? Miranda shrugged inwardly.

They ate in silence and only when they sat sipping their respective wine, did Miranda feel comfortable enough to talk. The waiter looked like he meant to approach them, perhaps to ask if they wanted coffee, and as much as Miranda loved coffee, she still frowned in his direction. It was enough to keep him away.

“Have you thought this through, Andrea?” Miranda asked quietly, folding her arms along the edge of the table in order to lean closer.

“I have.” Andrea nodded. “Have…have you changed your mind?”

“No. Not because of me, at least. I admit I was panicked enough to completely disregard the repercussions for you…long term.”

Andrea’s expression equaled that of a professional poker player. Her big eyes, normally so expressive and too telling, showed absolutely nothing. Then she drew a deep breath. “I’m glad you mentioned it. I did worry. I did.”

“Did?”

“How could I not help you? How could I turn my back on your when that…that _man_ , is up to his dirty games again?” Andrea spoke quietly and mimicked Miranda’s position, leaning forward. “Yes, I realize people might think I slept my way to the first assistant position, but I will know the truth.”

“And your family? Your friends? Your future employers?”

Andrea looked a little sad. “Yeah. Those.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Miranda straightened, but did not avert her eyes.

“My social life is non-existent, more or less. Too little time,” Andrea said apologetically. “And they don’t like ‘what I’ve become’, what the hell that means. My family is even less understanding, and since Nate left for Boston, well…let’s say, I wonder if my father loved him more than me? I’m joking of course, but—” She flushed. “Oh, sorry. I’m rambling. Rule no. 3, don’t ramble.”

“What? What rule? What are you talking about?” Miranda blinked, trying to follow Andrea’s chain of association.

“Oh, don’t get me started on the freaking rules.” Andrea smiled self-deprecatingly. “So, you see, if I worry for anything, really…it’s the future employer, but then again, that will be more than a year away, if I follow in Emily’s footsteps for my tenure. Surely stuff like this dies down within a year?”

“Normally you’re not naïve, but when it comes to the tabloid press, and how far back an editor will go to check references and track record, you just don’t have the experience.”

“So…we call your plan off? And then we call the Post and demand a denial and a retraction?”

“God.” Miranda just couldn’t see her way out of this. Not without jeopardizing a lot for Andrea, or complete humiliation for herself. Perhaps it was as simple as that. “I should not involve you.”

“I seem to be involved,” Andrea said in a whisper.

Miranda sipped her wine. “Would you come home with me to the townhouse, where we can talk more in private? If I give you all the details how this mess came about in the first place, you can take an informed decision. The girls are not home.” Miranda could see the wheels turning in Andrea’s beautiful head. “No matter what, we need to make a decision.”

“Agreed. So, no hugging while waiting for Roy?” Andrea smiled, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

“As much as I’d looked forward to that part; no.” It pleased Miranda to no end to tease Andrea back. “Let’s go.”

“Holy smokes,” Andrea muttered behind her as they walked out of the restaurant. “The freaking twilight zone again.”

At a loss as to what Andrea was talking about, Miranda walked right by the paparazzi that had showed up like clockwork, not acknowledging them whatsoever. Roy held her door open and she slipped into the backseat. She saw Andrea round the car and open the door. Just as she was about to step in, it happened. A photographer threw himself forward and shoved at Andrea. Miranda acted out of sheer dismay and caught Andrea as the young woman literally fell into the car. The flash of the man’s camera went off in their faces. Roy showed up like a menacing protector and hauled the man off, who was kicking and screaming, as Miranda helped Andrea sit up.

“Are you injured?” Miranda slid her hands up and down Andrea’s arms and shoulders while scanning her face.

“N-no. No. I’m okay. Thank you. Where the hell did he come from?” Her brown eyes huge, she looked over at Miranda. “He—I think he took some photos. Oh, God.”

“Yes. Well.” Miranda rubbed her temple, holding on to Andrea’s wrist with her other hand. “I think the variation of methods how to handle everything were just reduced. A lot.”

“No kidding.” Andrea looked unhappy. “Guess he’ll sell those to Page Six in a heartbeat. Wonder how they’ll put a spin on that?”

Roy entered the car.

“The townhouse, Roy.” Miranda leaned back and briefly closed her eyes. She was well aware of the fact she was still holding on to Andrea’s arm, but the touch anchored her somehow. If her life was one big mess before; it certainly wasn’t getting any tidier.

 

**Part 4**

 

Miranda strode up the stairs to the townhouse and only when Andy caught up did she see how badly Miranda’s hands were trembling as she tried to get the key into the lock on the door.

“Allow me,” Andy said gently and held out her hand. “It sure is cold enough out here, isn’t it?” Not wanting Miranda to feel self-conscious, she acted as if she thought the tremors in Miranda’s fingers came from the cold evening air. 

Miranda gave her the key and Andy quickly opened the door, not wanting the idiots flocking on the sidewalk to get more photos than they had already. Inside, she automatically reached for Miranda’s coat and hung it in the closet. She did the same with her own and by then Miranda had already started up the stairs.

Unsure, Andy stood in the foyer looking up at the enticing sight of Miranda’s swaying hips. She was not sure if Miranda was going up to fetch something or if she wanted Andy to follow her. A quick glare over her shoulder made Andy realize which and she hurried after Miranda who disappeared into her study. Stumbling into the cozy room, all dark wood and luscious cream carpet, Andy found Miranda over by the small bar placed in one of the book cases.

“White? Red?” Miranda’s shoulders looked rigid as she opened a bottle of red wine.

“Red’s fine, thank you.”

“It’s no bother for me to open a white if you prefer.”

“I’d love some red, actually, Miranda.” Andy wasn’t sure why she felt it necessary to placate the other woman; perhaps it was because she felt Miranda was especially vulnerable.

“Very well. Have a seat.” Miranda pulled the visitor’s chair behind her large desk.

“Oh. Okay.” Andy sat down and found herself sitting closer to Miranda than she normally did in the car.

“All right.” Sipping her wine, Miranda took a long, fortifying breath. “Andrea. I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

“Excuse me?” Andy placed her glass on a coaster on the desk without drinking. For some reason, she just knew she needed to be sober for this. “What are you talking about?”

“The fact that I have deceived you—and this is all my fault.” Miranda looked pale and her lips moved as if the words were hard to get out.

“I don’t understand. Why don’t you start from the beginning?” Andy curled up sideways in the visitor’s chair, pulling her legs in underneath her. “This is surreal.”

“You have no idea.” Opening her laptop, Miranda plugged the flash drive into one of the USB ports. “Remember I told you I had a feeling more pictures would show up?”

“Yes.”

“And you probably wondered if I’d become clairvoyant.” Miranda smiled joylessly. “No. I know because the pictures were stolen by someone. This someone was most likely paid by Irv or someone close to him to break into my system.”

“Someone broke into your computer? Here at home?”

“Nobody was actually in my home, physically.” Miranda pressed a hand against her midsection. “Though I feel as furious and violated as if they had.”

“So, what did they take?”

“More pictures…of us.” Swallowing slowly, and, as it seemed, painfully, Miranda sighed.

Andy changed her mind and grabbed her glass. Sipping it, she half closed her eyes as the smooth wine hit the roof of her mouth. “I still don’t understand,” she confessed after swallowing a few more sips.

“Here. Let me show you.” Miranda pulled up Photoshop and double-clicked on a file to open it.

Andy looked at the picture of Miranda and herself, standing alone on a wet and rainy sidewalk. They were huddled under an umbrella that Andy knew she’d never laid eyes on, and Miranda held her arm around Andy’s waist. Andy, in turn, had her lips pressed against Miranda’s temple in a tender kiss.

“Holy fuck!” Andy blinked and leaned forward. “How the hell…I mean, who…I, there’s no…it’s seamless! This _thing_ looks entirely real!”

“Thank you.”

“I mean, it’s like it’s a real photo and—what? What do you mean, ‘thank you?’” Andy turned her head and regarded the now trembling woman next to her. “Miranda? You all right?”

“I don’t know. It depends.” Miranda spoke through tense lips.

“You’re… What do you mean?” Andy glanced at the manipulated photo and back again at Miranda. “You mean…what you’re saying is, this is you? I mean, by you?” She pointed at the screen with an unsteady index finger. “You did this?”

“I did.”

“The ones in the paper too?” Andy’s mind whirled as she tried to fathom this totally unforeseen development.

“Yes.”

“And you have…more?”

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“Twelve. A few more that are works in progress.” Miranda’s jaw looked so rigid, Andy fully expected Miranda’s teeth to shatter.

“This damn Twilight Zone,” Andy muttered. “Wh-why have you? And for heaven’s sake, _how_ did you do this? And why? And why me?”

Miranda opened a folder. “Why don’t you look at the other pictures? I’ll be right back. I’ll try to answer your questions when I’m done.” She rose from her chair and then seemed to realized that she couldn’t pass until Andy moved out of the way.

“Miranda?” Andy frowned. “You’re pale. Do you have a headache?”

“Yes. I’ll get some aspirin.”

Standing up, Andy backed away to allow Miranda to leave the study. Something, perhaps curiosity paired with confusion, made her leave just enough room for Miranda to squeeze by. Holding her breath at how their bodies nearly brushed together, Andy then sat down again and began browsing the impossible pictures. She saw them hug, air kiss, and even dance, which was totally surreal. She had two more left to peruse when Miranda returned. Her boss was now wearing an off-white leisure suit and was sipping from a glass of what had to be Pellegrino.

“All done?” Miranda seemed as composed as ever.

“Almost. Two more.” Andy knew her own eyes had to be like saucers by now.

“Which two?” Miranda actually came to a full halt. “The last folder in the list?”

“Yes.”

“I suppose I can’t persuade you to delete it unseen?”

“Are you kidding?” Andy blurted before thinking better of it. “Come and sit down. I need to see it all—and I have questions.”

“Of course you do.” Miranda shimmied by Andy and quickly sat down.

“How’s your head?” Andy gently pressed the back of her hand against Miranda’s forehead. “You’re ashen.”

“I’ve been better.” Miranda looked at Andy with a strange expression, something resembling bafflement, on her face. “Very well.”

“Oh. Okay.” Andy clicked on the last folder and the first of the two pictures. And stared with her jaw sagging.

In the picture, Miranda had somehow managed to find someone with similar body type to Andy, dressed in a very small bikini. This body, with Andy’s head, was lying next to Miranda on a blanket on a beach, but that wasn’t the mind-blowing part. The thing that made Andy lose her breath was how “Andy” was possessively staking a claim to Miranda by placing her hand on Miranda’s bare stomach.

“Where did you get that photo of me?” Andy pointed at her head on the screen; clearly this picture of her, with her hair fanning out in the wind, was taken outside.

“I think it’s from the Central Park shoot. One of the photographers took photos of the staff to test one of his cameras. Nigel had some idea of using it for a staff pamphlet.” Miranda shrugged. “That might still happen.”

“And…the body? I’m guessing that no woman was actually caressing your stomach on the beach?”

“The photo of me sunbathing was taken by Cassidy last summer in the Hamptons. We have a private beach area there. And no, I don’t have a harem of women at my disposal to caress me anywhere.”

“Ah.” _Always something._ Andy double-clicked on the last picture. “Holy fu—”

“Just delete it.” Miranda’s weary voice made Andy jump.

“No! No. Not yet.” Andy leaned forward, mesmerized by the way Miranda had managed to place them. Miranda was sitting in one of the small armchairs in her _Runway_ office, leaning back with her eyes half closed. She had put a photo of Andy facing the opposite direction, as if straddling Miranda’s thighs. Her hands were cupping Miranda’s shoulders and her puckered lips were a fraction of an inch from Miranda’s exposed neck. The scene was so sexy, so sensual, and the expression on Andy’s face so adoring, her mind went blank for a moment. “Miranda…”

“So now you know.”

“Know what?” Andy shook her head. “That you’re good at manipulating pictures and photos? Yes, that I do know. Now. I still don’t know why you did it or why you chose me as your…motif.”

“Does that matter?”

“Are you kidding?” Andy raised her voice. “That’s all that matters.”

Miranda winced. “No matter what I say, what’s done is done and I’ll pay for this…this folly, one way or the other.”

“So, whoever Irv used stole all these pictures?” Andy decided to change tactics. “And they’ll run them on Page Six?”

“Yes.”

“We have to find a way to mitigate this attack on you.” Andy pushed back a little from the desk and chewed her lower lip. “The only way they can hurt you is if this has an effect on your position at Elias-Clarke. When it comes to the twins, they know about tabloids and how they will do anything to sell newspapers. Unless it embarrasses the hell out of you that the twins think we’ve been…uhm, carrying on, then that shouldn’t be hard to deal with. As for your peers, you’re not the first one to chase an assistant around a desk—what?” Andy looked down where Miranda gripped her arm tightly.

“I do not chase assistants _anywhere_.” Blue fire flashed in her eyes.

“I didn’t say you do, or that I thought you had. I merely stated that among your peers, it’s not unheard of. Remember, assistants share stuff with each other.”

“I see.” Miranda relaxed marginally, but kept her grip on Andy’s arm.

“You’re divorced and don’t have a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, as far as I know. Nobody on that front to defuse either.” Andy squinted as she ticked off the awkward list. “So, if we look at it pragmatically, the only one that it affects in ways we can’t even judge at this point is me. Privately, my friends and family will feel validated in their opinion that I’m certifiable for choosing to work for you in the first place. When they see this, they’ll—” Andy quickly wiped at errant tears and tried to smile with an irony she couldn’t quite muster. “They won’t let me back in, I don’t think. They’ll think I lied to them all this time.”

Miranda’s lips lost their pale tension and her cheeks grew pink. “Oh, Andrea, I’m so sorry.” She cupped Andy’s cheeks and brushed at new tears with her thumbs. “If I thought it would help, I’d talk to them personally.”

“Oh, God, no.” Half laughing, half crying, Andy shook her head. “That would not be good. So, that’s my family. Then there are future employers. They will either think they have a free pass since I clearly am used to sleeping my way to a promotion, or they will think I didn’t earn my current position and that I’m not employable because of that.”

“Stop.” Miranda lowered her hands to Andrea’s shoulders and shook her gently. “Stop it. You’re not going to end up in either of these situations. You’re not the only one taking stock of this situation. I have a few suggestions, if you’ll hear me out.” She motioned toward the couch. “Let’s more over there.”

“All right.” Andy wondered if she would have to raid Miranda’s aspirin stash. Her temples were pounding and she still had unanswered questions. As she sat down, she expected Miranda to sit at the other end, to want to distance herself. Instead the editor sat down right next to Andy, half turned toward her as she leaned her head in her hand, her elbow on the backrest. Her clear eyes scanned Andy’s face and then the rest of her; the glance was oddly comforting in its familiarity.

“I was onto something with my first and less honorable suggestion,” Miranda said cautiously. “I realized tonight that absolutely nothing can be gained by pretending to have a somewhat sordid affair. I know it’s asking a lot, most likely too much, but I’m still going to ask you to trust me.”

“T-trust you?” Andy heard her own voice sink an octave.

“For my new plan to work, the so-called sordid affair is over.” Miranda took Andy’s hand in hers. “Instead, I suggest we start dating properly.” Miranda put up a hand, palm toward Andy, when she was about to object. “And before I forget, this also means you can’t work at _Runway_ any longer.”

 

**Part 5**

 

Miranda could feel the tension in Andrea at her words and saw the shock in her eyes.

“You’re firing me?” Andrea drew a trembling breath. “Really? You’re…you’re just…”

“You can’t stay on as my assistant if we’re going to date.”

“So, what’ll I be? How does it help me if everyone thinks I’m your…your _kept_ woman, or something?” Pressing her full lips together didn’t help. They were still trembling.

Miranda had to smile at Andrea’s choice of word. Who knew the girl had such a melodramatic side? It was quite attractive. “Don’t be ridiculous, Andrea. You’re not going to be a kept woman. With your well-deserved recommendation from me, you’ll be able to get a job doing what you really love. Writing is why you came to New York, after all.”

Andrea gazed down at where Miranda held on to her arm. She slid her hand down to take Andrea’s hand instead, squeezing it gently for emphasis.

“So, how long do we continue this dating thing?” Though she met Miranda’s gaze again, Andrea’s voice held a small catch.

“You misunderstand. I want to date you.” Miranda knew this was where they either moved on together or apart. Her stomach rolled and the aspirin threatened to make an embarrassing reappearance, but swallowing against the threatening bile, Miranda kept talking. “You asked why I created these pictures. What’s your theory?”

“Oh, God. I don’t know!”

“Make an educated guess based on what you know of me.” Miranda knew this was a stalling tactic on her part, but it was also a way to find out just what Andrea thought of her, and what she thought her capable of. It was one thing for the rest of her staff to think she ate assistants for breakfast or tossed them out the window if they failed to bring her coffee.

“Fine. Okay.” Andrea pulled her eyebrows together, her eyes darkening. “You never do anything you don’t want to. You don’t care what others say or think. You chose to manipulate photos, and very expertly created situations that included both of us. Situations that were intimate…sensual…even sexual?” Andrea’s eyes grew wide. “It seems impossible, at least to me, but could it be that you find me attractive? That the pictures were in a sense wishful thinking? A visual fantasy of what you might want?”

Miranda always knew Andrea was brave. Now she had it confirmed beyond a doubt and this made her feel uncommonly ashamed at how she’d first suggested they’d deal with her mess. _Her_ mess. Andrea was an innocent bystander who had been prepared to sacrifice way too much to help Miranda avoid scandal. Was it right to even ask Andrea for more? Probably not. Probably so very selfish. Another one of her not-so-admirable traits. At the very least she needed to act as bravely as Andrea. If it was possible.

“Yes. These last months, have reacted to your presence in a way that I can’t explain. I’ve never found a woman attractive in a personal way before. You know I’m surrounded by women, many of them supermodels or superstars in the entertainment industry. I can see their beauty, their perfection, from a fashion point of view. They leave me utterly indifferent on a personal level. Then there is you. Much too young. Beautiful in a profound way that comes from within. It’s not just your stunning outer appearance; it’s that light, that kindness and caring glow you emanate, that pulls me in. Your scent. Everything.”

Andrea’s lips formed a soundless “oh” and now she clung to Miranda’s hand. “And now you want to date me. Why?”

Miranda frowned. Hadn’t she just explained how she felt?

“Yes. You find me attractive. You find me kind and a decent human being, I get that,” Andrea said quickly. “I believe you. Still, you need to mitigate the scandal caused by these pictures hitting the press and deal with Irv. So, you want to go on dates with me in public…but my question remains: for how long?”

Miranda realized Andrea hadn’t understood at all. “I’m sorry I acted so carelessly and so without concern for your reputation. This is all my doing. You’re right; you don’t have to date me. I will write your recommendation, of course. I just wish…” Her temples were throbbing again and somehow she sensed that Andrea’s head hurt as well. “I…” Her words failed her. Clearly there was no end to her failings and embarrassment this evening.

“No, no. Miranda, I’m not saying I don’t want to date you, or help you. I’m not saying that at all.” Andrea shocked her by taking her by the shoulders. “You must know I care about you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. It’s just that…if we date and time goes on and then you decide that Irv is dealt with accordingly and the situation back to normal, and you don’t need me anymore...” She sobbed almost inaudibly. “That will break me.” Her hands fell down into her lap where she clasped them hard.

“Break you?” Miranda’s heart skipped one contraction. Then one more. “I had no idea. Please, Andrea. Listen to me.” Her hopes beginning to simmer again, Miranda dared to pull Andrea in for a gentle hug. “Let’s forget about the stupid pictures for a moment. Let’s pretend I just asked you on a date for all the right reasons, like you deserve. Because I find you irresistible.”

“All right?”

Miranda knew she wasn’t exactly making the headache go away by holding her breath, but if she inhaled more of Andrea’s enticing scent, she might lose her resolve to act in an appropriate manner. “May I take you out to dinner again on Thursday? You can pick which cuisine and I’ll arrange it.”

“Uhm. Yes. That would be lovely. I like Thai food.”

Miranda managed to mask her wince as the only Asian food she liked was sushi and sashimi, but perhaps she could scare up a restaurant that managed both. “Very well. I will let you know what time I’ll be picking you up.” Miranda still held Andrea in a loose embrace. She didn’t want to let go of her just yet. It was an irrational fear, perhaps, but what if Andrea just decided to run, to pull back and out of her life? Miranda turned her head and buried her face into Andrea’s long hair, inhaling greedily.

“You—I like how you hold me. Feels very different. In a good way,” Andrea murmured. Her hands started moving against Miranda’s back.

Humming out of sheer pleasure, Miranda noticed how her headache began to lessen. “You’re far more understanding and forgiving than I deserve,” she whispered, hoping she wouldn’t jinx everything by stating this. “I know as long as Irv has the pictures published, you’ll be targeted and I want you to come to me when that happens. I know a great deal more than I care to about how to deal with the paparazzi leeches. Don’t feel you have to be the perpetual assistant and protect me.” Raising her head, Miranda skimmed her fingertips across Andrea’s lower lip. “I want to be there for you.”

Andrea’s lips moved against Miranda’s fingertips as if of their own volition. “Mm.” She hummed in what seemed like agreement.

“I think we need to call you a cab now or I will do something for which it is way too soon. I don’t want to ruin things more than I already have.” Miranda gave a one-shoulder shrug.

“What do you mean?” Andrea tilted her head against Miranda’s palm, which rested against her cheek.

Her cheeks warming, Miranda pushed her hand into Andrea’s hair. “I might kiss you. Or try to persuade you to stay.” She braced herself for Andrea’s shock and disapproval.

“Oh!” Instead, Andrea’s eyes shone brightly. “I agree staying the night is jumping the gun a bit, but…there’s nothing wrong with a kiss, is there? A real one.”

“As opposed to my manipulated embraces, you mean?” Miranda smirked. “As long as that kiss doesn’t escalate—”

Andrea moved in and pressed her full lips against Miranda’s. Holding her close, Andrea moved her mouth in several small caresses over Miranda’s lips. She didn’t deepen it, but it still made Miranda so weak, so breathless, she melted into Andrea’s arms. She had envisioned being held like this, being kissed like this, but those fantasies had not even come close to reality. Andrea’s lips were intoxicating and Miranda had to force herself to end the kiss and pull back.

“Oh, my.” Miranda wondered if she looked as dazed as she felt.

“Yeah. And then some.” Andrea sounded as taken aback as Miranda.

“Let me call you a—”

“I’ve got it.” Andrea produced a phone the way a magician pulls a rabbit out of a hat. She ordered a cab within seconds and then hung up, looking pensively at Miranda. “So, Thursday, right?”

“Yes.”

“What should I wear?”

“Casual elegance will do nicely.”

“Gotcha. I mean, will do.” Andrea smiled shyly. “I look forward to our date.”

“As do I, Andrea.” _Oh, God, as do I._

 

**Part 6**

 

Thursday came around too fast. Miranda found herself inside her vast walk-in closet, browsing her endless racks of clothes and still not finding anything suitable to wear. Frustration flooded her system and eventually she yanked a midnight blue Chanel cocktail dress from a hanger. It slid over her head like water and, looking at her reflection, she hoped Andrea would like her choice. She double-checked her makeup, added additional pink lip-gloss, and then left the closet. Donning her coat and an ivory Hermes scarf, she grabbed her purse and walked outside. Roy was waiting by the car door; his stern look seemed to be enough to keep the half a dozen paparazzi at a distance.

Miranda didn’t spare them a single glance. She had nothing but contempt for the vultures that made a living from trying to catch the latest starlet without her panties on, or, in her case, spread her private life all over Page Six and other gossip columns.

“To Andrea’s apartment.” Miranda sat rigidly on the right side of the backseat, more nervous than she cared to admit. So much could go wrong, which would create even more heartache. Andrea could change her mind, pull away, and who could blame her? No more pictures had been published yet, but their going on a date would renew the interest no doubt. This might turn out to be huge mistake for Miranda and result in an even more devastating outcome for Andrea.

Miracles of all miracles, the young woman seemed to care for her. Miranda clenched her hands into tight fists. She was not about to give Andrea up. Their kiss had held such fire and tenderness. Miranda couldn’t remember feeling this overwhelmed and infatuated by anyone else in her life. Not her husbands, not any of the temporary lovers in between. For a woman her age, she hadn’t had very many lovers, which she was sure might surprise some people who had her pegged as a man-eating bitch. Miranda chuckled mirthlessly. Bitch, yes—man-eating, not likely. Her brain made a detour back to Andrea and the concept of eating…which stole her breath away. Of course, this was when Roy pulled to the side and they were outside Andrea’s door.

Miranda was prepared to ring Andrea’s doorbell and escort her back to the car, but her diligent assistant was already waiting on the sidewalk. Climbing into the backseat, Andrea smiled and placed a light kiss on Miranda cheek.

“Hello. You look amazing.”

Miranda returned the kiss. “As do you. Calvin Klein?” She regarded the grey pantsuit.

“Yes. Nigel helped me choose.”

“I see.” Miranda wondered if Andrea had told Nigel who her date was, but she wasn’t going to ask.

“He guessed.” Andrea took Miranda’s hand. “About us going out. Not sure how he figured it out, but he did. Perhaps he’s failed to realize the manipulated pictures were fake.”

Miranda flinched. Yes, they were fake, but in her heart, they were the truth. “Nigel is trustworthy. I don’t have a problem with him knowing we’re on a date.”

Andrea looked relieved. “Oh, good. And of course, if the paparazzi spot us, then it’s a moot point.”

“Are you all right, darling?” Miranda asked, only noticing her use of the endearment after the fact.

“You mean with the potential ‘outing’?” Andrea surprised her by leaning her head against her shoulder and placing a gentle kiss underneath her jaw. “Oh, Miranda. I don’t have a choice.”

 _No choice?_ Miranda flinched. “What do you mean?”

“I’m already so invested in this, in you. My heart won’t allow me to back out. Not that I want to.” Andrea nuzzled her neck and sighed. “I think I deserve a medal for being the perfect assistant this week. Especially when I saw you in that skirt and wrap-around blouse. I just wanted to push you up against a wall—oh!”

Miranda had pressed the button to the privacy screen as soon as Andrea started talking and now she tugged the young woman close and pressed her mouth onto her full lips. Soft, pliant, they parted beneath hers and Miranda slipped the tip of her tongue inside. Andrea moaned and met Miranda’s tongue with her own, and how would they now be able to stop? Miranda pushed her fingers into Andrea’s hair, caressing her scalp as she held her in place. The kiss slowed, but the intensity escalated. Miranda’s nipples turned diamond hard and the ache spread throughout her abdomen.

Somehow, a miniscule part of her brain noticed the car slowing down and she pulled back just enough to form words against Andrea’s mouth. “We’re here.”

“Um. What?” Andrea blinked slowly. “Oh. Oh!” She sat up and straightened her clothes. “Holy smokes. I seem to lose all my cool as soon as we touch. I was smart to stay well out of your personal space at work.” She smiled.

“I’ll say.” Miranda pulled out a compact with a mirror in the lid and checked her appearance. Amazingly, her lipstick wasn’t smeared. All she needed was some new gloss, which she applied within moments. She glanced at Andrea. If one disregarded the high color in her cheeks, her makeup was also intact. “Ready?”

“Yes.” Andrea bit her lower lip and looked less certain than she sounded.

Miranda glanced outside toward the entrance. “Oh, well. Our less upstanding colleagues of the press are here. Roy will guide us inside. Trust me; he’s seen me safely through such crowds for more than a decade.”

“All right. Yeah. I trust Roy.”

They stepped outside and it was as if the night sky were on fire with camera flashes.

“Who’s that girl, Miranda?”

“Landed a girl-toy?”

“Hey, kid, look this way!”

“That your assistant, Miranda? Pretty young thing, huh?”

“Look this way, Miranda!”

“Kiss her!”

Placing her hand against the small of Andrea’s back as Roy ushered them toward the entrance, Miranda was furious. Fortunately, years of experience made it possible for her to keep temper in check and face expressionless.

Roy escorted them into the restaurant. Inside the door, the maître d’ took their coats. She was about to follow him to their table when she realized Andrea was not behind her. She turned and her heart plummeted in her chest at the sight of the shell-shocked looking woman.

“Andrea. Come. We both need a drink.” She took Andrea by the hand, appalled at how cold and clammy it felt against hers. She turned to the maître d’. “We’ll have a drink in the bar first. As private as possible.”

“I certainly understand, Ms. Priestly. Come this way. Our bar has its own private booths. If you want, I can have your dinner served there as well.”

“I’ll let you know.” Miranda practically dragged Andrea to the small semi-circle booth in the far corner of the bar. Nobody would be able to see them unless they walked right up to their table. “Two glasses of Four Roses, single barrel.”

“Certainly, Ms. Priestly. Diana will be your bartender.”

Diana showed up within half a minute with their bourbon. Miranda sipped hers, all the time keeping an eye on Andrea, who did the same. The smooth heat of the bourbon stoked the fire in her system. Being tossed from overwhelming arousal in the car to incinerating fury at the paparazzi’s comments made her tremble inside.

“Andrea. Talk to me. Are you all right?”

“A few more sips of this and I’ll be. I think.” Andrea drank some more for her glass. “Yeah. Better.”

“I had no idea there’d be such hordes of photographers. This is my first time at this restaurant; I really didn’t think they’d track me here. Foolish of me. I should’ve known better. I guess my mind was elsewhere.”

“Your name is enough.” Andrea scooted closer. “No matter what, you’re going to be of media interest. Either we deal with it together—or we don’t.”

Miranda pressed her lips together at the idea of losing Andrea, of never ever _having_ this wonderful creature the way her mind and heart had wanted for so long. “And?”

“Oh, God, Miranda.” Andrea sighed. “It has to be up to you too. You want me. You fantasize about us being together, but it’s the commitment I’m talking about. I care about you, or I wouldn’t be here. I _want_ to be with you.”

“Then that’s all I need to hear.” Relieved enough to almost shed tears, Miranda wrapped her arm around Andrea’s shoulders. “Let’s eat this Thai food of yours and, if you want, we can go back to the townhouse and talk.”

“And stuff.”

“And _such_.” Miranda had to smile broadly at the sudden gleam in Andrea’s eyes.

“Whatever.” Andrea winked.

Miranda glanced at Diana and the waitress was at their side in moments, taking their order. As she sat there, watching Andrea eat with genuine pleasure, Miranda knew she had just dodged a bullet.

 

*******

 

Roy drove them to the alley behind the townhouse. Miranda produced the large deadbolt key to the gate leading to her garden and then used the touchpad and pressed her index finger to open the second lock. “Can never be too careful,” she said to Andrea. “These vultures are not above going through your trash. We pulverize ours practically. The girls enjoy burning old documents in the fireplace sometimes.”

“Wow. I had no idea. So that’s why you use that confetti machine at work. Not just a shredder.”

“Yes. Shredded documents can be glued together very easily.” She opened the patio doors and let Andrea in. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, thank you. Oh, maybe some water?”

“Why don’t you have some from the fridge while I pour myself a glass of white wine?”

“Sure.” Andrea veered off to the kitchen and Miranda stayed in the den and walked over to the bar. She poured half a glass of Chardonnay and then stood by the window, looking out over her garden. It was illuminated at the perimeter and close to the house, as well as at strategic places where someone might try to hide with a camera. She flipped a switch by the patio door, engaging the electronic grid that would alert them if anyone stepped on the lawn or the path out there. The deck was similarly outfitted.

“You okay?” Andrea’s sudden voice made Miranda jump. “Whoa. Didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you heard me. Lost in thought?”

“Yes. And yes.”

“Um? Huh?”

“Yes, I’m okay. And yes, I was lost in thought.”

“Ah. I see.” Andrea sipped directly from a small bottle of Pellegrino. “I was thirsty after all.”

“So, I see.” Pressing another button, Miranda made the blinds turn to shut out the outside world. “I’m thirsty too.”

“Yeah?” Andrea peered into Miranda’s glass. “Chardonnay?”

“It is. That’s not what I’m thirsty for though.” Miranda’s stomach had recommenced its tremors as her gaze got lost in Andrea’s eyes. “Sip that water again, Andrea.”

“Oh, damn, the way you say my name…” Andrea moaned and sipped the mineral water. “Have you ever really listened to a recording of your voice?”

“I have accidentally come across interviews of myself, but I didn’t pay much attention. I have a very ordinary voice.”

Andrea guffawed. “As if. Your voice is anything _but_ ordinary, Miranda. If you were any more soft-spoken, people would need hearing-aides—on both sides!” She shook her head. “So, what are you thirsty for?”

Miranda wondered if Andrea had any idea how sultry her voice was. When Andrea spoke in the lower register, which she’d come to realize happened only when they were alone and the situation was starting to overheat, it made the tremors in Miranda’s belly increase. “Your kisses.”

Andrea placed her bottle on a coaster on a sideboard. Next, she repeated the maneuver with Miranda’s wineglass. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around Miranda’s waist. “You like my kisses, huh?”

“Yes.” Curious now at the determined expression on Andrea’s face, Miranda went along with the questions.

“And you like when I hold you like this?”

“I do.”

Andrea tilted her head. “All right. Here’s a first. Do you think you’d enjoy if I kissed your neck?”

 _Oh, Lord._ “I’m quite sure I would, yes.”

“Mm. Good.” Andrea cupped Miranda’s cheeks, tipped her head and pressed her lips to her neck. “Oh.”

 _Oh, indeed_. Miranda held on to Andrea’s shoulders as her full lips nibbled along her neck. Glad she wasn’t wearing a necklace that would get in the way, Miranda tipped her head back. Andrea latched on to her pulse point and then kissed her way up to her jawline. There, she brushed by Miranda’s lips, ghosted over her other cheek and then returned to her mouth.

“So, you like this. And kisses. What else do you like? This?” Andrea cupped Miranda’s left breast gently through her dress. “Oh, yes, I’d say you like this.” She flicked her thumb over Miranda’s nipple. “So hard already before I touched you.”

“Y-yes.” Mortified that she actually stuttered, Miranda held on harder to Andrea.

“Shh. I have you. I won’t let you fall.” Andrea, suddenly the strong one, the one in charge, held her closer. “I should quench your thirst though.” She claimed Miranda’s lips as easily as if she’d done it a thousand times before. All Miranda could do was to part her lips and let Andrea in. She had no way of deciding who was drinking whom, but the kiss went on for a long time, making her moan out loud. Eventually, Andrea raised her head and ended the kiss. “All quenched?”

“Not by a long shot,” Miranda said, pushing her hands up and into Andrea’s chestnut tresses. “Come here.” Now the instigator, she sucked Andrea’s lower lip in between hers, running her tongue across it, over and over.

Andrea whimpered; now she was the one trembling uncontrollably. When Miranda let go, she gasped for air. “And just when are we going to talk? Plan?”

“Oh, me. You’re right. We do need to talk. I just have one question first.”

“Yes?”

“Please, will you stay the night? You can ride with me into work tomorrow, but I—I need you to stay tonight. Would you?”

Andrea pushed Miranda’s bangs out of her eyes and with unsteady fingers mapped the outline of her eyebrow, then the shell of her ear and down along her jawline. “It depends. Are you going to play the chivalrous type and have me bunk in a guestroom, or do I get to hold you tonight?”

Miranda gasped. “You really feel ready to share my bed?” She could hardly believe it, but Andrea steadily met her gaze and seemed quite unfazed.

“I do. Unless it freaks you out.” Andrea did her one-shoulder shrug Miranda knew so well.

“I assure you, the idea of you in my bed makes me feel a multitude of things. ‘Freaked out’ isn’t one of them.”

“So, it’s a deal then. I stay the night—in your bed—and now we talk.”

“Yes. We better do that here because if I have you anywhere near the vicinity of my bed, we won’t get any talking done.” Miranda smiled at Andrea’s stunned look. “Didn’t you think I meant what I said?”

“Um. Yes. Just so new still to be the object of your—your—”

“My desire? My affection? My libido?” Miranda suggested helpfully.

“Yes. Eh. Those. All of those.” Andrea sat down on the loveseat after grabbing her Pellegrino. “So. Talk. Now.”

“Bossy. And in a hurry?”

“You bet, Miranda, so fire away.”

Miranda took a deep breath and joined Andrea on the loveseat. “I suggest you give your two-week notice tomorrow. I happen to know of two publications that would be a good fit for you. The _Daily Mirror_ needs a junior reporter, and so does the _NY Press_. I can get you through the door, but if you land the job, you will know that is your own accomplishment.”

Andrea took her time to answer, even if she’d seemed so in a hurry just moments ago. “You’re really serious, aren’t you? We are doing this—full on.”

“Yes. Of course.”

Leaning her head against her hand and her elbow on the backrest, Andrea nodded slowly. “If anything, this makes me love you more, Miranda,” she whispered, a definite catch in her voice.

Miranda couldn’t breathe, much less talk, for the first few moments. Finally her vocal chords reengaged. “You love me?”

 

**Part 7**

 

The expression in Andrea’s eyes were so soft, Miranda could not look away even if the onslaught of emotions was overwhelming her. “God, Andrea.”

“Don’t be afraid, Miranda.” Andrea ran her fingers through Miranda’s hair, caressing her scalp, continuing down her neck and in under the neckline of her dress. “It’s all good. Was it too soon?”

“No.” How could it be? How could such wondrous, mind-blowing, and, yes, intimidating, words be too soon? Miranda ran her thumb along Andrea’s lower lip. Such beautiful lips, speaking such beautiful, impossible words. Nobody, except her girls, had spoken to her about love and affection in a long, long time. “I…oh, Andrea…I love you too.” Miranda wasn’t sure Andrea heard her as her voice trembled so badly.

“Sweetheart. As soon as I told you how I feel, I could tell by the way you looked at me. I’m not being conceited, I—”

“I know. I know…” Miranda pressed her lips against Andrea’s, gently, but with an insisting force. Andrea met her tongue with such passion, sucking, licking, caressing, until Miranda was whimpering, “Andrea,” against moist lips. “Let’s go upstairs. I can’t wait any longer.”

Andrea smiled broadly, her skin flushed as she tugged at Miranda’s hand. “Come on, pretty lady.”

Needing to resume control, Miranda guided Andrea upstairs, stopping twice for more kisses, before they reached the next level. She showed Andrea into her bedroom and then suddenly she was pressed up against the door leading into her walk-in closet. Andrea dragged her Miranda’s hand up above her head, holding them in place with one hand as she nipped and licked at her neck, making her gasp for air.

“You smell so damn good.” Andrea was hyperventilating. “And I’ve dreamed of this moment, fantasized about it…and never really dared to hope. But here you are.”

“Mm. Here we are.” Miranda moaned as Andrea reached her left clavicle. “Yes, like that. Just like _that_.” Lowering her arms, she tugged at Andrea, trying to pull her closer.

“The dress. Don’t want to ruin it.” Andrea reached around her and unzipped it. The sound of the zipper made Miranda shiver and the cool bedroom air added to the escalating tremors.

Andrea’s perfume, that scent of shampoo, lotion, and something deeply personal, was enough to make Miranda dizzy. The dress slipped off her shoulders and she shrugged impatiently to rid herself of the barrier between them. Soon it pooled around her feet and she was about to demand Andrea ignore it, but there was something so sweet at how reverently Andrea placed it on a padded hanger. Miranda pointed toward the special hook she had mounted on the wall for such purposes. Once the dress was dealt with, Andrea turned and regarded her with parted lips and burning eyes.

“You’re amazing. I can’t believe I’m allowed to see you like this.”

Miranda in turn wanted to rip the Calvin Klein suit from Andrea’s body, but decided to act against her impatient nature for once. She sensed how important, and arousing, it was for Andrea to discover her like this, to remove not only her clothes, but also unveil the Dragon Lady and truly find the real Miranda.

Her thigh-high stockings were next. Andrea rolled them down with unsteady hands and tossed them aside. She pressed her lips to the inside of Miranda’s thighs. “Mm. Wonderful.” She kissed a trail upward, along her right hip to the center of her stomach and up between her breasts. “Beautiful.” Andrea reached around Miranda, unhooked her lace bra and gently pushed it down her arms and off. “Oh, my God.” Andrea cupped her left breast and raised it to her mouth. Sucking the pebbled nipple in between her lips, she groaned around it, sending vibrations through Miranda.

The pleasure was almost too much. The sight was equally incredible as Andrea’s full lips worked on Miranda’s breast. The young woman was insatiable and her voracious appetite for Miranda was enough to make her knees lose cohesion. “Bed, Andrea,” she managed to groan.

“Mm.” Andrea let go of her long enough to drag her over to the bed and push her down against the pillows. Somehow, Miranda lost her lace panties in the process, which was actually a relief as the sensation of the fabric against her swollen sex was enough to torture her. The idea of a temporary reprieve was quickly overturned when she then was treated to the sight of Andrea undressing unceremoniously in front of her.  Off came the jacket, the shirt, and the plain white bra. Andrea’s breasts rocked gently as she pushed the grey slacks down her hips, bringing whatever underwear she wore underneath with them. Gloriously naked, she stood still for a few moments, allowing Miranda to regard her unhindered.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart,” Andrea said, her voice deep and husky. “Make room for me.”

Miranda could hardly move, she was trembling so badly with need, but parted her legs. Immediately, Andrea climbed onto the king-size bed and on top of Miranda. The full body contact was enough to make them both moan. Hot skin became damp in seconds and Miranda’s legs seemed to wrap themselves around Andrea of their own volition. They kissed, long, languid kisses, deep enough to connect their souls. Miranda had never known such intimacy, nor had she made love with such abandon. She rocked her hips against Andrea’s, trying to sooth the ache, at least a little bit. It backfired as the storm within her grew to hurricane force immediately.

“Andrea. I—I need you. I’m burning up.”

“Where do you need me, Miranda?” Andrea stopped moving. “Show me.”

Miranda took Andrea’s right hand and shoved it down between them. “Inside.”

“Oh, God.” Andrea’s whisper lingered between them as she slipped her fingers between Miranda’s swollen folds. “So, ready for me, aren’t you?” Andrea rested against her bent arm beside Miranda’s head as she caressed her slowly. “So swollen, so needy—”

“Andrea!” Arching while in pure agony now from the intense arousal, Miranda pulled her legs up and out. “Please, please…”

“Oh, sweetie.” Andrea carefully entered her with two fingers, then three.

Miranda could not remain quiet even if she did try. The searing pleasure drove her toward an orgasm that most likely would be equal parts pain and bliss. It should have intimidated her, but as this was Andrea, _her_ Andrea, Miranda undulated without hesitation against her hand, trembling badly.

“So sexy, so beautiful. Miranda, Miranda.” Andrea’s voice was barely audible the way she gasped for air. “I’m so close to coming just from looking at you, touching you…feeling you.”

Miranda clung to Andrea’s shoulders. “No, don’t come. Try—not to—come—not yet.” She wanted to be inside Andrea when she came. Miranda pushed a hand down, in between Andrea’s legs. The heat and the wetness there nearly did her in. Forcing herself to wait, she found Andrea’s clitoris easily as it was so swollen and hard. She dipped her fingers into the copious moisture and ran them up and down the length of Andrea’s folds, sliding their entire length around her clit.

“M-Miranda. Oh, God. Miranda!” Arching as her orgasm made her moan and whimper, over and over, Andrea pushed her fingers deeper, hitting something that made Miranda follow suit. Fire licked her from the soles of her feet, to the nipples on her breasts, and everywhere in between.

Suddenly it wasn’t enough, the fire erupted again, this time demanding more.

 

*******

 

Andy was gasping for air, her sex was still convulsing in the aftermath when she felt Miranda move. It soon became clear that Miranda wasn’t shifting to comfortably enjoy the afterglow.

“Not enough,” Miranda whispered frantically and pushed Andy on her back against the luxurious pillows. She looked completely wild where she stood on all four above her, intense and wide eyes scanning Andy’s damp skin. “It’s _not_ enough.” She parted Andy’s legs with trembling hands, stroking along the inside of her thighs. “I won’t apologize. It’s all your fault that I’m suddenly this insatiable bitch.”

“Wh-what? My fault? And you’re no bitch!” Worried now, Andy tried to sit up.

Miranda placed gentle, but insisting, hands on her shoulders. “I need you.” Her voice was a mere whisper and yet the intensity made it echo through the room. “I need you. Let me, Andrea.”

“You can do anything with me, for me… _to_ me. Miranda, I promise. I would never push you away.”

“You’re being far too trusting…” This said, Miranda was clearly done talking. She parted Andy’s legs, pushed them up and as widely apart as it was possible.

Andy knew on some level that this was a test of sorts, even if Miranda would never acknowledge it, especially not to herself. She regarded the woman she adored, and who had confessed to loving her back, with so much tenderness in her heart she could hardly breathe. Wanting to please and reassure Miranda, Andy held on to the hooks of her knees and kept her legs wide apart as this seems to be what she wanted.

“Mine.” Miranda moved onto her stomach and shouldered her way in under Andy’s calves. There, she parted her now oversensitive folds and gently licked along them, long languid caresses with her tongue that made Andy forget instantly about wanting to please or reassure.

“Oh, God. Miranda…careful…”

“I know, darling,” Miranda murmured against Andy’s center. “So sensitive you must be, having just come. You can come again.”

 _Oh, damn, what if I can’t?_ Andy could usually come more than once, but only when she masturbated, at least so far. The way her clit throbbed and burned made her think it could happen with Miranda. “S-slowly.”

Miranda used hardly any force at all, but seemed content in tasting her lover for as long as it took. How could this woman, normally so impatient and perpetually annoyed when kept waiting, be happy doing _this_ for what felt like a blissful eternity? Then she suddenly switched tactics and latched onto Andy’s clit, pulled it into her mouth and sucked gently at it while flickering her tongue just beneath.

Andy had no idea at first who was screaming. She didn’t even know when she’d pushed her fingers into Miranda’s damp hair to hold her closer. “Miranda…Miranda…”

Blowing carefully at the now almost sore tissues, Miranda smiled up at Andy. “How amazing you are. So utterly amazing.”

“ _I am?_ ” Andy croaked. “You’re the one who’s pretty fucking awesome, lady. Where…I mean how, I mean…God.” She couldn’t even speak properly.

“How did I learn the art of, hm, cunnilingus, you mean to ask?” Miranda crawled up along Andy’s body and arranged the duvet around them. “I can’t say I have any first hand practice until today, but who would’ve guessed that my first husbands love for porn would come in handy from an instructional point of view?”

Andy began to speak, only to choke on her words, and all the time trying to envision Miranda Priestly watching porn. Yes, she could picture it. Miranda, disdainful of the genre, but taking notes in case it was something she could use in the future. Andy started laughing, giggling helplessly as she hugged Miranda and hid her face at her neck. “Oh, my tummy.”

“What’s wrong with your stomach?” Miranda clearly did her best to look innocent.

Andy managed to control her mirth and looked up at Miranda through wild tresses of hair. Miranda caressed them away from her face, smiling now. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Andy couldn’t remember ever being this happy as she was in this instant. Miranda had totally lowered her guard. She prayed it would remain lowered when they were alone together like this. “Did I tell you I love you?”

“You did.” Miranda kissed her lips gently. “Did I remember to tell you I love you right back?”

“You did.” Smiling so broadly now, it actually hurt her cheeks, but unable to stop, Andy ran a thumb along Miranda’s lower lip. “And you have made me so happy. I can’t tell you just how much. It’s impossible.”

“Some writer you are.” Miranda chuckled and then snuggled down next to Andy, pulling her onto her shoulder. “We should remove our makeup, really, but you wore me out—”

“I did? _I_ wore _you_ out?” Andy would’ve sat up with a huff if she’d had the energy. “You are one to talk. I’m half dead.”

“You’re half my age. That should make up for the extra orgasm.”

“Don’t even try. You’ve got better stamina than anyone at Runway. I’m the one who keeps your schedule, including your sessions at the gym, the Pilates, and the swimming.”

“You’re the one who does the coffee runs and are always on your feet.”

“Hm. I still say you wore me out in the most delicious of ways.”

“Well. Yes.” Sounding quite pleased, Miranda cupped Andy’s cheek as she reached out with her free hand and turned off the light. “Sleep, darling.”

Andy held her lover—her _lover_ —and closed her eyes. Even if so much of what was going at Elias-Clarke still hung in the balance and they didn’t know exactly what tomorrow would bring, Andy had never felt so safe.

 

*******

 

Miranda felt Andrea breathe evenly against her and knew she herself needed desperately to get a few hours of sleep in. Tomorrow, there would no doubt be pictures of her and Andrea in on Page Six, real ones this time, and all hell would break loose.

Andrea shifted and tugged her closer, which made Miranda smile against the chestnut head on her shoulder. No matter what, Andrea loved her and she had to trust that would be enough, that _Andrea_ would think it was enough, when their lives became every New Yorker’s business.

 

**Part 8**

 

Waking up next to Andrea Sachs was a completely new experience for Miranda. Not only was the young woman a cuddler, she seemed to have grown an extra set of arms during the night. Andrea held on to Miranda so tightly in her sleep, it was a miracle she could actually breathe.

“Andrea? It’s time.” Miranda shook the slender shoulder peeking above the duvet. “Andrea?”

“Mm-hm.”

Clearly being gentle and nice got her nowhere. Miranda firmed her grip. “Andrea! Wake up.”

“What?” Andrea sat up fast, her hair whipping through the air as she looked around for whatever monster she no doubt thought had attacked her. “Where? What’s up?”

“I’m still in bed with you. No demons on the loose.” Miranda had to smile at her tousled lover. “I can see how this interesting method might actually be quite dangerous.”

“Danger? Where?” Andrea looked dazedly at her. “There a fire?”

Chuckling now, Miranda pulled Andrea down into the bed and back onto her shoulder. “Let’s try this again. Good morning, darling. Sleep well?” She pressed her lips to Andrea’s.

“Mm. Oh. Oh! Yes, I did. Strangely enough.”

“What do you mean, strangely enough? The bed not to your liking?” Miranda narrowed her eyes deliberately, only half joking as she continued. “Or the company?”

Andrea blinked and then shook her head, snorting. “Don’t try that. Not working. Bed is fine. Company is—” She stopped herself and moved up to rest her head in her hand. “The company is wondrously, amazingly, beautiful.” She dipped her head and kissed Miranda’s mouth, making it relax.

“So why are you surprised you slept well?”

“I rarely sleep well the first night in a new bed. Doesn’t matter if it is a hotel, or going back to Cincinnati…” Her voice trailing off, Andrea’s smile waned as well. “Anyway. So, must’ve been the, hm, workout from last night.”

Worried now, as Andrea could hardly smile at her own joke, Miranda knew she must be thinking of the tense situation with her parents. Their night together had not exactly helped matters. If Andrea’s parents already had issues with her being a lesbian or bisexual, their daughter being in a relationship with the woman they blamed for a lot of things would not exactly mend fences.

“I’m glad you did sleep well. I did too, which is very rare. So, you think it’s because of the workout? Think we might be onto something?”

Andrea’s eyes lit up as Miranda took the joke further. “Most definitely. So, time to get up, huh?” She turned to check the time on the alarm clock. “Holy smokes, 5 a.m.? You’re kidding me?”

“Not really. No.”

“You always get up this early?”

“I do, for the most part, yes.”

“On weekends too?” Andrea looked a little shell shocked. “I like to sleep in when I’m off work. Just saying.”

“I don’t mind breakfast in bed on Sundays with the paper at hand.” Miranda suddenly envisioned all four of them having coffee, toast, and juice in the morning in a sunny bedroom. The girls would bring their iPads, which they used to read most of their literature, and she and Andrea would take turns with the different sections of the newspapers. She smiled to herself, her heart so warm now, it created a matching glow inside her. She suddenly saw something flicker before her eyes and realized it was Andrea’s hand, waving back and forth.

“Hello? Andy to Miranda. You in there?”

“I am. Stop that silliness.” Trying to sound stern, Miranda still had to smile.

“All right, as you seem to be back. I just wanted to say that I like the sound of breakfast in bed.” Andrea sat up, slowly. “I suppose we need to get going then.”

“I suppose.” Reluctant - and strangely fearful - Miranda slid out of bed on the other side. “I’d ask you to join me in the shower, but I know myself better than to do that. I’d end up exploring your lovely body again, which we don’t have time for. If you don’t want to wait, there’s a guestroom right down the hallway to left.”

“I don’t mind. Guestroom it is.” Andrea flicked her fingertips in that little wave of hers Miranda knew so well and then strode out of the bedroom without a stitch of clothes on. Miranda drew some deep breaths to calm her onset of arousal. Some view.

 

*******

 

Andy hurried back to the Mercedes, coffee tray in one hand, purse, and the newspaper in the other. Roy took the coffee and placed the tray on the vacant passenger seat in the front as Andy slid into the backseat.

“Do you want to…?” Andy held up the newspaper to Miranda, who shook her head.

“All right.” Andy pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth as she turned to Page Six. And stared. A faint tremor in the center of her stomach was the first sign of how bad this was. Within seconds, it had spread to her hands and the newspaper fluttered like a captured dove in her grip.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, how bad can it be?” Miranda yanked the newspaper from Andy’s grip.

Closing her eyes hard, Andy waited for it.

“Fuck.” Miranda folded the newspaper neatly and then rolled it into virtual baton. Slapping it into her palm over and over, she pressed her lips together. Then she sighed impatiently. “What are you waiting for, Roy? A raise? Go.”

Roy pulled them out into traffic and Andy knew if there had ever been a time not to ask Miranda _anything,_ this was it. She could tell Miranda was like a nuclear device set to go off if someone so much as breathed on it. In fact, had she not known better, she could’ve sworn she could feel the air around Miranda sizzle.

Miranda’s remaining pictures were all there. Page Six had apparently outbid any other tabloid, and the person who’d hacked Miranda’s system, had sold everything to them. There were eight manipulated photos of them, including the ones in which they kissed and in which Andy seemed to caress a bikini-clad Miranda. The captions underneath each picture were suggestive, bordering on offensive. On the bottom half of the page, Page Six offered some of the real photos from yesterday and a few others from earlier. The one of Andy sprawled over Miranda in the Mercedes was among them. The text under that suggested Andy was drunk or “affected by an unknown substance,” which of course made her seem like she was stoned as well.

Roy stopped at the curb at Elias-Clarke. Miranda flung the door open so hard, the hinges protested with a loud squeak. Before Andy had time to react, Miranda was off toward the building. Andy hurried around the car, remembering the coffee, and grabbing it from the front seat. When she turned around again, Miranda was gone.

When Andy reached the marble lobby, Miranda had clearly ploughed through the masses and secured an elevator. Sighing, Andy made her way through the steady stream of employees and she knew it wasn’t her imagination that they were giving her strange looks. The cat was out of the bag and it was just a matter of time before anyone said anything.

Of course, she had to ride the elevator with seven other people who murmured around her. She was glad when she finally reach Runway’s floor and stepped outside—and nearly fell over Irv Ravitz.

“Whoops. Sorry, sir. I didn’t see you.”

“Ms. Sachs.” He pulled his upper lip up in what was probably meant to be a smile. “Just the person I wanted to see. And you brought coffee.” He snagged one of Miranda’s cups without asking. “Let’s go into Miranda’s office until she deigns to set foot here.”

Not about to let him know Miranda was already in the building, Andy walked behind him with dread in her heart. Not to mention with a whole swarm of butterflies in her stomach. “Yes, sir.” No matter what, Irv Ravitz was her boss’ boss, which made him “il boss supremo” or something.

They passed a pale looking Emily who looked at Andy with complete sympathy, which in itself was not a good sign. If Emily felt sorry for her, it only meant one thing; Andy was toast.

“Do sit down, Ms. Sachs. Andrea, isn’t it?”

“Andy, please.”  Nobody said her name like Miranda did and for this weasel to even try was nauseating.

“Andy. Yes. Well, you seem to have gotten your fifteen minutes of fame, haven’t you?” He smiled broadly as he sat down in Miranda’s chair.  In Miranda’s chair!

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to, sir.” Andy wondered how it was possible to speak at all when your jaws were so tight with anger and apprehension.

“Ah, come on now, Andy. Surely, you’ve seen Page Six? Fantastic pictures of you and Miranda, out on romantic dates, using the company card no doubt as you are frolicking in and out of bed.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Cold anger rose inside Andy, paired with a new sort of calm. “I was having dinner with Miranda yesterday, _sir_ , and I can assure you, neither she nor I used the company card. Unlike some people, Miranda’s work ethic is impeccable and that includes her accounts.”

Sneering now, Irv drummed impatient, stubby fingers on the pristine surface of Miranda’s desk. “That may be, but she’s still breaking the rules, which she’s done for the very last time. Something I will inform her of when she gets back here.”

“I suggest you will be comfortable waiting in the foyer, then, as this still is Miranda’s office.” Andy was so furious she could hardly speak.

“You do, do you? Then I have just thing to say to you. If you think you’re still going to have your cushy job here when I’m finished with Miranda, you have another thing coming. As a matter of fact, you’ve served your purpose. You’re fired.”

“What?” Her fingers became ice cold and her feet as well, something Andy recognized as a familiar sign of her going off the deep end in anger—soon. It didn’t happen often, and mainly did happen when she was a child and then a teenager. Now she stared at Irv with eyes like narrow slits. “You’re firing me?”

“I’m the head honcho here, kid. I hate to say it,” Irv chuckled in a mock good-natured way, “but to quote Donald Trump, ‘you’re fired.’” He smiled at his own lame joke. “And you’re fired Miranda-style. As of this instant. No notice. And as your face is plastered all over Page Six breaking the fraternization rules in the most public of ways, I wouldn’t recommend you filing any complaint about it to Human Resources.”

So, no job. Great. Andy wanted to thud her head against the glass top of Miranda’s desk. Or preferably smash Irv’s face against it. Press him so hard against it, his nose would shatter before he stuck it into Miranda’s private life again.

“So. Skedaddle.” Irv clearly went for a fatherly smile as he shooed at her.

 _Like I’m a freaking sheep!_ Andy stopped in the doorway and turned around. “So, I’m fired?” she asked, to be sure.

“As in ‘get your ass out of here or I’ll call security,’” Irv said, any jovial tendency gone, leaving only the look of a cold-hearted idiot with a Napoleon complex.

“One good thing about being fired is that I now can say what I want.” Andy smiled broadly against the pain in her heart. “You’re a fool, Irv. Miranda is what keeps the entire Elias-Clarke corporation afloat. If it weren’t for Runway, this ship would have sunk a long time ago. Everyone knows that, and if you weren’t so determined to keep your head permanently planted in your own ass, you’d know it too. She sees right through you, and that’s what you hate—”

“Now you just wait—”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m not your employee anymore. I don’t take orders from you or anyone else around here.” Andy felt tears cling to her eyelashes. “You’re petty and the only thing big about you is your ego, which suffers from the worst case of flatulence I’ve _ever_ seen.” Andy drew a deep breath after delivering that last line. She was about to turn and pack up her desk when a steady hand landed on her hip from behind and Miranda’s beloved scent engulfed her.

“Bravo, Andrea. I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

 

**Part 9**

Miranda felt Andrea tremble against her. Usually only this protective regarding her girls, she held Andrea closer as she directed her fury toward the man in front of them. Irv still had the audacity to sit in her chair, his dark eyes like opaque beads.

“Miranda. Finally.” He leaned forward, resting his chin against his laced fingers.

“Get out of my office and stay away. I’m only going to tell you once.” Miranda made sure her voice was low and even, mimicking false friendliness.

“I’m sure I misheard that. _Your_ office? I’m the chairman of Elias-Clarke and thus, this, and any other office, is my—”

“You should know by now how I hate repeating myself. Get out. And before you so foolishly object, you should know that Emily has already called security.” Miranda knew she was enjoying this a little too much, but after all these days of heightened stress levels, who could blame her?

Irv tossed his head back, laughing scornfully. “Security? Oh, good. They can remove little Andy here. She’s fired.”

“You didn’t tell him, darling?” Miranda turned to face Andrea, whose eyes were impossibly big and dark as they stared back at her. “You should’ve told him that you’ve already quit and have several interviews lined up. But I guess you didn’t want to jinx it, did you?” She pressed her lips to Andrea’s cheek, smiling against the soft skin as she could hear Emily gasp at her desk.

“You’re…you’re insane.” Irv was stuttering now. “You’re totally insane when you think you can flaunt this fraternization and think you can get away with it—”

“In fact, Ms. Priestly’s relationship with Ms. Sachs is all above board and registered, Mr. Ravitz.” A group of three people, led by a thin man in an impeccable Armani suit, rounded the corner and entered the inner office. “I’m David Salinger from Human Resources. I’ve been made aware of the current situation, which I’m appalled to say, has been exacerbated by your criminal activities, Mr. Ravitz.”

“Criminal activities? Are you all mad?” Irv barked at them and stood, leaning on both hands against the desk.

“We have received proof, beyond the shadow of a doubt,” the woman next to Salinger said curtly. “I’m sure you recognize me, Mr. Ravitz. You’ve been trying to have me removed from the legal department for the last six months in order to get your own guy to take my place. Well, the board has not been pleased by your work ethic this last year, so they kept me around. Good thing too, or Elias-Clarke would’ve sunk like a rock on your watch. Only the fact that a few of us kept Ms. Priestly from being outmaneuvered helped save this company.”

“Not your job though, Irv,” the third person, a burly man said.

“Byron!” Irv raised his hands in an exasperated gesture. “Don’t tell me you’re listening to these…these fools?”

“We’ve known each other for more than twenty years, Irv. Do you honestly think I’m all that surprised?” Byron Caldwell shook his head solemnly. “I’ve seen you pull some stunts in the boardroom. Some of them brilliant, many of them shady. When Miranda presented her suspicions to us last week, I was ready to defend you, but when I realized this had Irv Ravitz written all over it, I had to examine the proof again. Closely.”

“These two fuck like rabbits, with _her_ creating sleazy false pictures of them, and—” Irv’s voice rose an octave as his fury took over.

Miranda smiled broadly. “False pictures? The ones in today’s paper? They’re not real? How on earth would you know that, Irv, if you hadn’t seen my handiwork—the files your hacker stole from my home computer.”

Irv blanched. “It’s obvious. Obvious, when you look at them. That they’re fakes.”

“If they’re fakes, then your accusation of our fraternizing has to be false also, right?” Making her voice velvety soft, Miranda took a step closer. “Andrea and I couldn’t have fucked like rabbits if these pictures are false. Right?”

Irv took a step back, his foot momentarily getting stuck in the chair behind him. “Now, you just listen here…I know what you’re up to—”

“I doubt it. Did you think I couldn’t hear the insults you hurled at Andrea just now? The whole corridor heard you.” Miranda pushed forward, not satisfied until she had Irv cornered. “What’s more, my other assistant, Emily, has been under orders to start the tape recorder we installed months ago, as soon as you set foot in my office, whether I’m here or not. So, if I missed even one syllable of what you said to Andrea, I can play the tape back to my heart’s content to make sure I heard it _all._ ” She was close enough to make him very uncomfortable as he had nowhere to go. Part of Miranda wanted to chuckle at the way he resembled a startled animal, the rest of her wanted to throttle him or stomp on him for being such a horrible, disgusting little man.

“So, you blame me for her mess,” Irv wailed. “She fucks her assistant, manipulates images of the two of them, and I get the blame.”

“I told you, he’ll never get it. He’ll never assume blame for any of his dubious activities.” Miranda spoke over her shoulder to the five people, counting Emily who was now standing next to a flustered Andrea. “I have apologized to the only one in this room who was directly affected by my…hobby. Andrea has kindly forgiven me.” She rounded on Irv, so furious now her voice was little more than a hiss. “So, you just shut up and listen, _Irving_. You committed a felony when you hired a person to hack into my personal computer. To add to that, you stole the images in question and sold my property to the tabloids with the intent of harming me. There is only one way for you to avoid the humiliation of having the police drag you through the building in front of everyone. You sign a full confession, apologize to Andrea, and resign from Elias-Clarke.”

Irv stared at her with such unadulterated hatred, Miranda shuddered inside. Had he had access to a gun at this point, he would’ve shot her, point blank. She just knew it.

After breathing heavily for another fifteen seconds, he flung his hands listlessly in the air. “Fine,” he muttered. “You bitch.”

“You say the sweetest things.” Miranda stepped aside. “I believe the security officers you asked for are here, Irv. Why don’t you join them so you can clear out your office? After all your time here, I’m sure these strapping young fellows can help you call a U-Haul and carry some of your _stuff_.”

As Irv hurried from the room, Miranda saw Andrea reach for the doorframe, holding on with pale fingertips. “Darling.” She hurried forward and caught Andrea just as her legs gave in. “Shh. He’s gone. He can’t hurt either of us.” She held Andrea close and motioned with her chin for Emily to close the door. Once they were alone in the office, Miranda helped Andrea to the couch. Sitting down, she guided Andrea to lean across her lap, her head on Miranda’s shoulder.

“There now. Better?”

“H-he was awful and I got so mad. So angry, I swear I could taste iron. I just lost it.”

“I nearly did too, when I saw what he had them write about you on Page Six. Then when I heard him bellow all the way to the elevators, I knew I had made a mistake to leave you alone…vulnerable to his attack.” Dreading how this might have pushed Andrea away, Miranda held her closer, kissing the top of her head.

“I’m not afraid of Irv. I couldn’t have cared less about him firing me. Not really.” Andrea spoke mutedly into Miranda’s neck. “I just didn’t want to leave so I could make sure he didn’t hurt you. I mean, verbally and stuff. I know you can h-hold your own against anyone. Really.” She sobbed and then wiped at her tears with furious little gestures. “But you didn’t see him. His eyes…I swear he was ready at launch at both of us, had you been there. He’s…he’s not right, you know. In the head. There is something really, really wrong with him.”

“I have my own lawyers dealing with potential aftermath. If he steps out of line even a little bit, they have paperwork ready to go. Needless to say, I’m filing a restraining order against him. I have papers ready for you to sign if you wish to do so also.”

“I think I do.”

Miranda hugged Andrea closer and was about to kiss her when Andrea’s phone rang, startling both of them. Sitting up, Andrea wiped again at her eyes and checked the screen. Sighing, she answered, her shoulders slumping. “Mom?”

Miranda flinched and held Andrea closer again. To her relief, Andrea didn’t resist, but curled up again while she talked to her mother.

“Yes. Yes. I know. Miranda. Yes.” Sighing, Andrea rubbed her temple. “Age is hardly a problem. Look at Aunt Trudy. Yes. Twenty-five, or something. No. No!” Sounding angry now, Andrea sat up again, her back ramrod straight. “She loves me. Yes. Yes, or course I do. I know it…how? Because I feel it. How she treats me. How she makes me a priority and plans for a f-future.”

Miranda wanted to reassure Andrea again, then and there, but knew she would have to fake some patience and just give Andrea time to deal with her mother.

“I’m not a child anymore. I’ve been in other relationships. I know what love feels like. Nate? Oh, God, don’t drag his name into this too. He left because we didn’t love each other anymore. He moved on. So did I. Yes. Yes. I was miserable for a while, but not because of him. Because of _her_. I loved her and before I knew how she felt about me, I had to try to come to terms with the knowledge that one day my tenure would be up and I’d have to move on and never see her again.”

Her eyes unreadable now and those full lips reduced to fine lines, Andrea reminded Miranda of a painting of a female Celtic warlord. Her otherwise so soft features seemed to consist only of sharp planes and angles.

“If you’re that bothered with the pictures in the paper and online, there’s not much I can say or do. They’re out there. Suing will only attract more unwanted attention. Besides, if you really look at them, they’re innocent. Hugs. Kisses. A few caresses.” Andrea turned and looked at Miranda. Her eyes became liquid, their steely expression melting into one of unconditional love. “They speak of love, Mom. Don’t you see?” Her gaze shifted to home in on Miranda’s mouth. “I gotta go. No, I have to. Say hi to Dad. We’ll talk in a few days, or a couple of weeks, when everything has died down. I promise it will. Not even Miranda Priestly remains hot news for very long.” She disconnected the call and tossed the phone on the coffee table. Cupping Miranda’s cheeks she kissed her until Miranda was completely out of breath. “I love you.”

“Oh, darling.” Miranda exhaled and held on tight to Andrea, so relieved, so happy now. “I don’t deserve someone like you, but I’m a selfish bitch. I intend to keep you. I had this plan to persuade you to give me one more chance—a whole speech prepared actually.” Miranda nodded to the silent cell phone. “Seems you beat me to it, in a manner of speaking.” She tipped Andrea’s head up to face her again. “You are my miracle.”

“And to me you are the sorceress.”

“What?” Smiling, Miranda regarded Andrea quizzically.

“Everything started happening because you summoned some love gods or something, by imagining us.”

Miranda pressed her lips to Andrea’s temple. “Really, Andrea? And am I to surmise that Irv is Cupid in this fantasy scenario?”

Her eyes huge, Andrea coughed against laughter. “No, no, I take it back. No scenario with Irv anywhere _near_ us, please.”

“Good.”

“So, what happens now? Irv is out, I assume. Restraining orders in progress. My mom and dad on the fence, putting it mildly. The girls…?” Andrea smiled tremulously. “There is the risk they will hate this whole idea.”

“I don’t think so.”

“What if they’re teased at Dalton because of the tabloids?”

“Then we’ll talk to them. They learned at a young age to disregard the press, but just to be safe, we’ll be more candid with them than I’m truly comfortable with.”

Andrea leaned back to study Miranda’s face. “You don’t think you’re getting me to have ‘the talk’ with them, do you? With the added bonus of explaining why lesbian love is a little different?” She frowned, only half joking, Miranda could tell.

“The thought hadn’t occurred to me, but now when you mention it—”

“Uh-uh. Nope. No way. I’d be happy to be your second in command when it comes to such things. Riding shotgun, sure. Taking the helm, not so much.”

“God. All these action analogies are wearing me out. Maybe time to get some work done before I take you to lunch?”

Andrea’s expression changed to something entirely soft and tender. “You do that, sweetie.”

Suspicious at the smooth tone, Miranda raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I’m fired. Or, I quit, according to you. I’m a bit confused, but the gist is, I don’t have a job.”

Wanting to thud her head against the closest wall, Miranda had to concede. “Very well. Can I just ask a favor before you start setting up interviews for yourself?”

“Sure.”

“Help me sanitize my chair and my desk. I don’t want to risk touching anything he touched while he was in here.”

“Oh, that I can do, Miranda. I know where Louisa keeps her stuff.”

“Louisa?”

“The woman who cleans this floor.”

“She must be new. Never heard of her.”

“She’s worked since 1978.”

Miranda stood and pulled Andrea into her arms. “Well, since you know so much, I’m glad I count on you to help me.”

Andrea caressed Miranda’s cheek and kissed her gently. “Anytime, Miranda. Anytime.”

 

*******

 

Nine days after the sensational dethroning of Irv Ravitz, Andy stood in the doorway of Caroline’s bedroom as Miranda hugged the mellower of her two daughters goodnight. The little redhead glanced at her over her mother’s shoulder.

“So, Andy’s your girlfriend now? I mean, like a real one. Not just a _friend_.”

“That’s right, Bobbsey. Not just a friend. Andrea and I are together. You and Cassidy seemed okay with that at dinner. Any other thoughts?” Miranda tucked Caroline’s unruly hair behind her ears.

“Nah, not really. At least two of our classmates will understand when we call you our two moms.”

Andy jumped and saw Miranda had stilled her hand against Caroline’s hair.

“Your two moms?” Miranda whispered.

“Yeah, we figured it out when we were loading the dishwasher. Cassidy and I knew things would be different from now on.”

“That’s right.” Cassidy came bouncing into her sister’s room from their joined bathroom, smelling of soap and toothpaste. “I mean, Mom, it’s pretty obvious. Andy comes to dinner. You guys give us the speech about how you love each other and yada-yada, and then suddenly we have _chores_. We’ve never had chores in our life, and suddenly we’re loading the dishwasher. That’s a sign.”

“A sign,” Miranda said weakly.

“Yeah, a sign. Andy probably had to do stuff like that when she was a kid and you don’t want her to think we’re just spoiled, rich kids…so we have chores now.” Cassidy sat down next to Miranda on the bed. “And besides, that speech? We already knew about the mushy stuff. We’re not blind. We see the papers too. Awesome pics you did, Mom. You screwed up Andy’s hair on the beach one though.”

Andy found herself slipping down the doorframe, laughing so hard now, she could barely breathe. “Oh, God,” she murmured, wiping at the corners of her eyes. “This…this is amazing.”

“It certainly is. So how did you girls go from chores to the concept of mothers?” Miranda asked.

“If you’re changing things that much because of her, it must mean you want her to be like a mom to us, right?” Caroline spoke slowly, as if she was trying to find her way through this reasoning as well.

“Yes. Yes, I suppose so. I had no idea I was that transparent to my girls, though.” Miranda hugged them both.

Andy watched them affectionately. Three Priestly females. What bliss. How scary. Then a small, lanky arm extended from the group hug, waving frenetically. Not about to waste any time, which she knew was not appreciated by _any_ member of the Priestly household, Andy scooted closer, still on her knees on the floor.

Cassidy, of course it was feisty little Cassidy, tugged her into the family hug, and now Andy knew she was making a total fool of herself as she started to sob. She felt Miranda turn within the hug and shift her grip, pulling Andy into the center.

“Darling, what’s the matter?” Miranda asked, sounding worried.

“I—I’m just happy,” Andy tried to explain. “I love you. All three. And I’ve missed not being part of…of a family. Of anything. I’ve missed it so much.” She hadn’t thought she’d feel as if she belonged with Miranda and the girls so quickly. How could she have known? Only days ago, she was despairing over being so lonely and unhappily in love. Now, Miranda loved her and had gone to bat for her in a way that was totally surreal. The twins seemed to really like her and considered her parent material. How could they expect her not to break down?

“Did Andy’s mom and dad kick her out?” Caroline whispered.

“No, of course not. Andrea doesn’t live at her parents’ house. They had words, Bobbsey. I’m certain once her parents think things over, they’ll figure it all out.”

“Yeah, they better. I mean, this is Andy we’re talking about. She’s pure gold. You said so yourself, Mom.”

Andy poked her head up. “You did? When did you say I’m pure gold?”

Blushing faintly, Miranda raised her eyebrows at her girls who looked completely unfazed. “I’m sure I have no such recollection.”

“I know exactly when it was,” Cassidy said helpfully. “You said Andy was pure gold that time when she faked that call to you at that function when Irv had switched the seating arrangement at that banquet. So, Andy called you—”

“—and I made it sound like the twins needed you urgently so you could bow out without offending the stockholders.” Andy grinned broadly, remembering how her wild idea had been met with a nod and a hint of a smile.

“Ah. Yes. Well.” Miranda placed kisses on three foreheads. “Time to go to bed, girls.”

“Is Andy staying?” Caroline asked.

Miranda nodded. “Yes, that’s the plan.”

“Cool. See you tomorrow, Andy. Night, Mom.” Cassidy walked into her own bedroom.

Walking into the hallway, Andy took Miranda’s hand in hers. “Pure gold, huh?”

“God. I’ll never live that down, I can tell.”

“Never. Gold is a good start. I can try for platinum when we go to bed, if you’re interested.”

Miranda stopped walking so abruptly, Andy stumbled into her. “Really? Platinum?”

“Then there’s the ultimate…titanium.”

“Oh, my.” Swallowing hard, Miranda melted into Andy’s arms. “I think you need to take me to bed, darling.”

Kissing Miranda, Andy reveled in her taste and the scent she loved so much. “Anytime, Miranda. Anytime.”

 

*******

 

Epilogue

Cassidy tiptoed into her sister’s room.

“Caro? I was just in the kitchen ’cause I forgot my iPad. The dishwasher sounds really weird.” She sat down on the bed and chewed on her lower lip. “I think you were right. That Swarovski crystal set probably shouldn’t have gone in.”

 

**THE END**


End file.
